


plan for heaven, or hell will do

by heybernia



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Demons, M/M, Mutual Pining, the central theme of this is stupidity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 15:18:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19320784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heybernia/pseuds/heybernia
Summary: The third time Mat summons him, the gap between the summons is only about a week and it ends with Tyson back in the New York apartment again.“Have you ever actually summoned the demon you're trying to summon or is it always just me?” Tyson asks. Mat says absolutely nothing to him, only sends him a glare, and Tyson’s glad he ends up back in his hotel room and not the Arctic or space.(or, Tyson spends eighteen years of his life without being summoned. He also spent eighteen years of his life without having to see Mathew Barzal on the regular and now the both of those are well and truly fucked.)





	plan for heaven, or hell will do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aimerai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimerai/gifts).



> hey aimee it's not going to be hard for you to guess who it is but i hope you still enjoy the fic <3

For a demon, Tyson never gets summoned.

It doesn’t bother him. He may be a little offended in deep down that no one wants to have sex with him, a hot, attractive, sexy sex demon but that’s that. He still can’t decide whether he should call himself an incubus because he’s a dude or a sucubus because tradionally they have sex with dudes, and that’s what Tyson’s here for and what he uses his humanly charms for. Tyson can solemnly promise with a hand on his heart that he never uses any demon persuasion powers. That’s mostly because he’s kind of useless at the whole poking prodding prompting deal.

Like anything, if you don’t use it, you’ll lose it, and well, Tyson would rather work on his backhand than that. In the long run, that’s what’s going to make him happy. Hockey above everything else, except family and food and friends, not in that order.

Anyway, Tyson has gone eighteen years of his life without being summoned and so he has no clue what it would feel like. Whenever he’d up in some church in the middle of the woods or a crossroads in the middle of nowhere.

It turns out that he can feel it. Which is unfortunate because Tyson would really rather not feel like his body is going to rip apart at the seams, tear itself apart right down the middle and continue to do so until Tyson’s body is split into nice bite sized chunks, and even though the feeling fades as quickly as it arrived, his heart is still thundering in his chest. He doesn’t need to be reminded that he has one, thanks. 

Tyson opens his eyes then. He can’t remember when he shut them and winces against the light. This is more a college student studying by desklamp only thing than a demonic creature of the night thing. 

Out of nowhere, he hears a clearly annoyed, “What the fuck.”

It still takes another couple of seconds for Tyson’s vision to clear up fully. Tyson thought that if anyone was going to summon him, that they’d be happy to see him at the very least before they got to anything. Instead, in front of him is a pissed-off frowning Mathew Barzal who has his arms folded tight and is glaring at Tyson like this is somehow his fault. 

“What the fuck, Josty,” Mat says.

“What the fuck yourself,” Josty says, matching Mat’s pissed-off tone because he’s meant to be sleeping or homeworking, not standing in a basement in Kent. 

“Why the fuck are you here?” Mat asks. He seems to be directing it mostly at himself. 

“I don’t know, you’re the guy who summoned me Barz.” Trying to be quiet is hard for Tyson so he doesn’t try.

Mat runs his hand through his hair and to quote Danny Zuko, grease is the word that they heard and it’s more than appropriate enough for Mat’s mop of hair. “Well done for noticing.”

“C’mon, man. I don’t have all night. I’ve got classes and shit in the morning. We can get this over and done with,” Tyson says. He’s had one wet half-dream, half-nightmare about this very scenario and Tyson would have not tried to erase from his memory if he’d known he’d should have been taking notes. 

“Absolutely fucking not,” Mat says, emphasing every single syllable as if he’s trying to cast a spell or a curse on Tyson which Tyson is pretty sure he can’t do. Mat is human right through his bones and skin but if anyone could force magic and materials to bend to them, it would be Mat. Dude’s stubborn as a fucking horse and no one being, no material and no force have ever told him no. No

Tyson opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out because he’s still trying to wrap his head around what Mat said. Tyson feels this sense of frustrating building, he’s tired, and he doesn’t understand and it’s definitely not his fault he’s here.. 

“Okay, well then I gotta ask why’d do you summon me--” Tyson points at himself. “A sex demon if you did not want any sex.” He then does his well practised dual snap finger guns in Mat’s direction. 

“Because you’re not the demon I wanted here!” Mat is yelling at him and Tyson’s about to say something about that being an overreaction before stopping. Maybe he started the yelling, possibly. 

If he started the yelling, then he can stop it too. Tyson takes a deep breath, and he can see Mat following him in that. Tyson takes another, Mat does the same too, until the energy is the room starts to lessen, the hair on Tyson’s arms falling back down. 

“Okay, I get it. Can’t you just send me back then?” Tyson wants to ask who Mat wanted to summon, but he can guess and his guesses tend to be right. 

Mat gets those deep frown wrinkles in between his forehead that Tyson notices even when Mat’s got his helmet on because of how they travel all the down his face. “I’ll try.”

Mat walks closer to Tyson and bends down to where there’s a paintbrush in a cup. He takes it out, dabs into a tin of what must be the paint and gets to work.

Tyson hadn’t noticed the pattern of rings at his feet. There’s not a pentagram and Tyson’s maybe a little disappointed. Instead there’s about three different rings equally spaced apart with these weird looking symbols in between them. That’s what Mat is changing, he’s adding lines to the symbols and if Tyson is seeing this right, he’s managing to make them shift. Not just painting over, but the paint itself changing. He goes all the way around the circle and Tyson resists the urge to watch him do it. There’s something hypnotising about it, just like Mat’s skating or watching his hands. Something that means he can’t even look away.

“Okay, it’s done. Full offence, Josty but I hope to not see you again for a while.”

Tyson can’t even get the annoyed Mathew out his mouth before the hung, drawn and quartered feeling returns, even more intense this time, making Tyson bite back a gasp of pain before it bursts, and Tyson’s right back to where he was before. Inside of the bathrooms at UND. 

Tyson should probably have asked more questions. He had the right, he supposed. Tyson would have asked questions if he had actually wanted to hear the answers he knew he was going to hear.

*

“Hey, Dante.” Tyson knows Dante’s paying attention. He’s looking at Tyson and Tyson’s looking at Dante looking at his screen which should hopefully have Tyson’s face on it and not a life hack insta page. Lots and lots of looks.

Dante does that small, deep hum that he does because who needs words when you have hums and mumbles? (Tyson likes it really. It reminds him of sitting close to each other on the sofa in the basement and Dante leaning close in and Dante laughing. Nostalgia is a bitch.)

“Have you ever been summoned?” They’re still facetiming even though Tyson is lying face down on his bed, pillow scrunched up underneath his head so he can talk and look at the screen with minimal effort. Being in a hotel room by himself is much easier to manage than having a roommate. Hopefully Dante’s right about his not being back soon, Tyson doesn’t want to hang up just yet. 

“Like, randomly?” Dante says.

“Is there any other kind of summon?” 

Dante’s face does this weird thing. He squints at the screen like he’s trying to make Tyson out through fog or some shit. Tyson doesn’t have any problem making Dante out and his phone has a huge crack in it.

“No, I guess not.” Tyson waits for Dante to say something else but he’s still doing that squinting thing instead.

“Dude, I asked you a question. I asked it nicely and I’d really like an answer.”

“It’s happened a few times,” Dante admits casually. “Only since I’ve been in Boston though.” 

“Oh.” Tyson wasn’t sure what Dante was going to say. He’s not sure why he asked because Dante would have told him if he had been summoned before. They’re each other’s best-- each other’s secret keeper for demon things and this falls under that. “It never happened before?” Tyson asks, faint enough that he notices and just hopes Dante doesn’t.

Dante shakes his head. “No, it’s just been a few drunk teenagers wanting more alcohol from water. They must be more desperate than the Canadians.”

“Sure, yeah. So you’re a moonshiner then? Do you get paid?” He sounds closer to normal now. 

“I’ve never actually done it. I had one girl scream at me before sending me back before I could even say hello.”

“Considering your face, that’s a normal kind of reaction,” Tyson says.

“Fuck you.” Dante scrunches up his nose and runs his hand through his hair, keeps it wrapped in his fingers while he scratches his scalp. “Your face could kill someone.”

“How’s the horns?” Tyson asks. If Tyson’s heart was beating normally, he’d have said something about that turning into a compliment because his looks can kill, thank you, but he’s trying to keep himself from spiraling deeper into the Dante doesn’t tell him things anymore hole. 

“Itchy as fuck,” Dante says. Tyson has seen photos of baby Dante with his tiny horns because Tina Fabbro is the MVP. Those were absolutely fucking adorable. Dante looked like he was meant to be in a Disney movie with the big eyes, red face and dark violet pointy horns he’s told. 

They grow very slowly and they fall off by the end of summer so they’re not a big deal. Dante files them down and that makes Tyson cringe, but he’s still helped him out on the couple of times Dante has asked.

“Has your tail started growing yet?”

“That’s not funny,” Dante says.

“Do you think moonshine people were actually conjuring demons and that’s why called it moonshine because like the moon, night, darkness, demons, it’s all pretty creepy shit.”

“Maybe,” Dante says. “Congratulations on signing by the way.”

Tyson swallows. Dante had sent him a text but it’s still nice to hear Dante tell him. Mostly to hear Dante’s voice, hear the smile in his voice and see it on his face.

“Thanks, Fabbs,” Tyson says, turning his face into the pillow to hide his blush. 

*

Tyson and Mat, they’re not _not_ friends. They’re just not super buddy buddy. They come nowhere close to being ride or die friends. Mat probably wants Tyson to do the latter and Tyson isn’t going to think about the first because that’s another breed of nightmare dream. 

Mat would come and visit Dante sometimes, and they’d hang out and stuff there. But Dante was always there as a buffer, something that meant Mat and Tyson weren’t grinding against each other. Tyson wouldn’t ever do that with Mathew Barzal and any video evidence that says the contrary is fake. 

Mat spent WJC hanging out with Chabs, and so Dante spent most of it hanging out with Tyson, and he’s not going to complain about that at all. It had only been six months since the draft but it felt like a lifetime. Dante wasn’t any different, Tyson probably wasn’t either, but something had changed.

If Tyson was smart, he would have figured out sometime in the two years they shared a basement that wanting to make Dante laugh at every single possibly moment wasn’t a bro thing, nowhere close to being a bro thing. 

They didn’t share a room at World Juniors which in hindsight was a good thing because Tyson had one experience being a weird creeper who stared at Dante while he was sleeping and that’s enough for him. They both missed the ending to Fast and Furious Tokyo Drift so there’s something fair in that.

*

They hang out again in the summer, him and Dante. Go to the legendary Fabbro cabin in the middle of nowhere for a weekend. Dante seems to have let things grow out. He’s thicker than the last time Tyson saw him at WJC. Hair seems to be longer and glossier and his hands feel rougher to the touch and--

“Sun’s out, horns out, eh?” is the first thing Tyson says when they’re both knee deep in the water. 

Dante flushes. Tyson can see the tips of the horns sticking out just above the top of Dante’s hair. Before Tyson’s feelings started elbowing him in the stomach, he’d make horny jokes constantly because that’s what he’s here to do. Now that the elbowing has started,Tyson only makes them once a day which is toe-ing the line between life and death. Death by horn would be an embarrassing thing to say the least. 

Both of Dante’s parents are demons biologically speaking--personality speaking they’re incredibly nice and generous and very pleasant, they’re nicer people than most humans-- so that’s what gives Dante the high percentage demon heritage which in turn gives him the built in bull costume. 

Tyson’s mother and their whole family are human. His sister’s a human too which leaves Tyson as the odd one out, half human and half demon, probably less because it’s not like he’s got that many demonic traits. He can make his eyes turn red and stick to ceilings and once he fried the electricity wires of the street but that was about it, and he’s never fucked (ha) with his sex demon powers enough to know.

“What are you laughing at?” Dante asks, shaking Tyson out of his bubble.

“Nothing,” Tyson says. “Just a thought.” Fucked with his fucking powers, fuck, why was that so funny.

“You’re a weirdo,” Dante says, looking back to his phone and trying to finish his text message.

“I’m not the one with horns sticking out his skull. Oh, and tell Mat I said heyo.”

“Heyo?” That had to be the thing Dante focused on because it’s obvious he was texting Mat, he gets this distinct face when he is that Tyson could never forget. 

“That’s what I said,” Tyson says. 

Dante’s rolling his eyes but his fingers are moving and he lets out a sigh once his thumbs tapped for the final time. “Done.”

“Did you actually send it?”

“Yeah,” Dante says.

“Did you say heyo?” Tyson asks.

“No,” Dante says.

“Why not?” 

“Heyo’s lame,” Dante says.

“Take that back. Heyo is a top three greeting, it’s only matched by like yo and sup," Tyson says.

“If you’re thirteen, sure.”

“Says the guy who uses emojis only.”

“Mat agrees with me,” Dante says instead of responding to what Tyson said.

“That’s because Mat is lame,” Tyson says. He had to bite down his tongue to stop himself from saying _that’s because Mat likes you more than anyone._

“Well yeah, but he agrees with me so I’m right.”

Tyson gets up out of the deck chair because he needs the distance right now, away from Dante and away from his thoughts. “I’m going to go ask Steve. He gets the final word on everything.”

Steve does not agree with Tyson because apparently he has to side with his biological child and Tyson would care but Dante is barely able to keep arguing past his wheezing laughter. 

*

Tyson talks to Mat once during the whole summer, not counting that time with Dante as the messenger. It probably doesn’t even count as talking because it was just Tyson seconding what Mat said in the Team Canada group chat from World Juniors that was revived one night by a drunk Kale Clague to lose a vote that he started. Bean is the superior vegetable in terms of the man and the veg.

That’s the only time he remembers and anything that drunk Tyson says does not count.

Technically, this means that Tyson does have a lot to say to Mat when he sees him and Tyson would be more open to it if Mat hadn’t summoned him again.

“You’re joking,” Mat says, that same disbelieving tone as the last time. 

“My pranks tend to be better than this,” Tyson says.

Mat shakes his head and walks out of the room. Tyson takes the chance to have a little nose. It’s a bedroom, not a hotel room. It’s got a huge window and if Tyson was in a movie, this would be where they’d cut to the drone to show all those nightlife and nightlights that surrounded the place. There’s open cases, clothes and objects scattered all across the floor and Tyson was surprised there was enough room to draw the summoning circle. It does seem to be smaller than the last one, everything’s all bunched up closer together. 

Mat comes back in through the door downing a glass of something. “You’re still here,” he says when he’s finished.

“Yep,” Tyson says.

“Ugh,” Mat grumbles, a very undignified, unattractive noise.

“For sure, you can’t say it’s because of the distance this time,” Tyson says.

“It’s probably because you’re awake and the other-- demon isn’t,” Mat says. 

Tyson rolls his eyes. Mat’s about as subtle as a dog, a very hungry drooling dog who wants food. Tyson in this scenario is probably also the dog.

“It was nice seeing you and all but can you send me back? I was just about to have supper.”

“It’s like 10 o’clock,” Mat says.

“Time is fake,” Tyson says.

Mat says, “You’re something else, Josty.” and Tyson replies with the honest thank you, and that’s the last thing they say to each other before Tyson gets himself snapped back to his own apartment right into the kitchen. The cupboard’s even still open.

“Dude.” JT was not in the kitchen when Tyson got summoned but he certainly is now. He’s holding a mug of something that has steam rising out the top. Tyson thinks being a flame elemental would be cool. No more gloves or scarves or anything else.

“Where’d you come from? Where did you go?” JT’s voice still sounds flat somehow like Tyson disappearing is no big deal. It’s not a big deal, but JT doesn’t know that yet.

“Where’’d do you come from Cotton-eyed Joe,” Tyson says in time and in tune. 

“Ha ha,” JT says, as dry as can be. “For real, what happened?”

Tyson shrugs. “Got summoned, no big deal.”

JT nods. “That happens a lot?”

“Apart from this one guy, no.”

“He must like your services,” JT says, using his skills in the art of saying as little as possible in the most deadpan voice known to humanity. 

Tyson frowns. “Not really, he tries to summon someone else and he ends up summoning me instead on accident. Is that hot chocolate you've got? Did you make me some too?”

"No, you weren't even here," JT says, taking a sip.

"Dude," Tyson says. "Dude, c'mon."

"There's still water in the kettle," JT says, before he walks out of the kitchen, leaving Tyson frowning at his empty mug. At least the hot chocolate makes him feel better, warmer on the inside. He barely even burns his mouth this time. 

*

Tyson hopes that’s the last of it. That the distance thing turns out to be true and that Mat will summon any demon that actually now lives at the same timezone as him.

It does not.

The third time Mat summons him, the gap between the summons is only about a week and it ends with Tyson back in the New York apartment again.

“Have you ever actually summoned the demon you're trying to summon or is it always just me?” Tyson asks. Mat says absolutely nothing to him, only sends him a glare, and Tyson’s glad he ends up back in his hotel room and not the Arctic or space.

*

The fourth time, it’s in a hotel room. Specficially in a hotel bathroom.

“Is that going to wash off?” Tyson asks.

“It will,” Mat says. His hands are covered in black splotches of paint.

“Cool, would you mind like hurrying up? I was in the middle of watching Universal Soldier.”

“Which one?” Mat asks while he continues to work on changing the symbols, the magic starting to buzz.

“The first,” Tyson says.

“That's a proper fucking classic,” Mat says.

“Yeah,” Tyson says. That was close to a normal interaction for them whch was weird. Tyson doesn't know what he would do if they continued on this road to standard conversation so he's kind of glad that he ends up back in the apartment in a flash. 

"Welcome back, Josty," Kerfy says, relief clear in his voice.

"Hey," Tyson says, turning towards the screen and seeing something he doesn't recognise. “You didn’t pause it?”

“We didn’t know when you’d be back,” JT says. His mild levels of concern from the first time Tyson had disappeared have now dissolved, and JT treats Tyson being summoned that he's in the bathroom or nipped out to get more snacks, he's glad to see him but he wasn't missing him all that much. 

“You’re both dicks,” Tyson says.

“We can watch it again, you’ve only missed ten minutes,” Kerfy says because he’s a real life angel. Okay, he’s not because he’s actually a harpy so he’s got the wings that come and go, just no halo. Definitely close enough though.

Tyson checks his phone while Kerfy rewinds the movie. Well, he’s checking the text thread between him and Dante, reads the message Tyson sent to him a couple days ago. He turns off his phone before the blue checkmark continues to mock him.

*

“I admire your dedication at continuing with the summoning schtick,” Tyson says what must be the sixth or the seventh summon now. “But it really doesn’t seem to be working

“Sometimes it works,” Mat says.

“For sure. Sometimes, you see who you want, and other times you don’t get to see all of this."

“You’re disgusting. Your face is covered with crumbs,” Mat says.

Mat’s lying. Tyson wipes his face and he can see the dark crumbs from Kerfy’s attempt at a chocolate cake that Tyson was the only person brave enough to eat. Okay, Mat was not lying, but it was nice of him to tell Tyson. Old Mat wouldn’t have told Tyson because it’s funnier that way, apparently. 

The first thing Kerfy says to Tyson on his return is about there being crumbs on his nose and Tyson's just glad that he's relaxed about this now too. That he's not going his wings all twisted. 

*

Tyson can enjoy being by himself for a couple of days. Maybe four at a push. 

And it's not been four days since the team left for Sweden, but Tyson's fucking bored to tears anyway. Being injured is the fucking worst. 

Tyson misses JT and Kerfy. He also misses the rest of the team and wishes he could actually be in Sweden instead of stick in Colorado. No offence to Colorado, but currently all Tyson's seeing is the inside of his apartment and the gym and it's driving him insane. 

He's so bored that he's doing the dishes willingly. No bribe in sight, only attempts to stop his brain from leaving him too because there's only so much of this it can handle. All of his friends are busy too that they can't baby sit him all the time and everytime he checks his messages, it puts him in a worse mood so he has to try and stop that now.

He's never going to admit this to any soul at all, not even on his death bed, but when he senses that now familar sharp tug down his spin, Tyson is glad. Anything is better than spending another day in the apartment alone. Even spending time with Mat Barzal. 

"Hey Josty," Mat says. 

"Hey Barz," Tyson says. They've been doing the close to normal interaction thing the past couple times this has happened. It's a weekly thing, like a book club except they discuss what movies they've been watching and anything that's been happening with their mutual friends. "Wow, you're doing your summons in the kitchen now. Do you take orders?" 

"Sure, expensive prices though. Too much for you." 

"If it's worth the money, I'll pay the money," Tyson says. 

Mat lets out a noise somewhere between a snort and a wheeze that Tyson is sure is a laugh. He crouches down to where his pot of paint is and Tyson's mouth moves before his brain."

"Hey, uhm, could I stay for a bit instead of being sent back?"

Mat stands back up, giving Tyson an unsure look. "For real?"

"Yeah, for real. The change of scenary's nice, being stuck in that apartment by myself fucking sucks and it sucks my team's fucked off to Sweden. I miss talking to actual people who aren't the pizza delivery guy."

Mat blinks at him. Tyson blinks back and thinks about what it just did. It's defnitely a new low for Tyson. He's really just bared his feelings towards Mat Barzal. Now that is embarassing. 

"If you want to stay, you can," Mat says, slowly. 

Tyson nods because he can literally never speak to Mat again.

"Okay, help yourself to food or whatever. Tito's in his room. I'm going to go wash up."

Max leaves and Tyson remains for a few seconds until he can convince himself to move. Tito being in his room explains the too loud music that Tyson can hear coming from down the hall.

Tyson goes sits on the couch and stares at the basketball game on the TV. He's not really watching it. He's not paying enough attention for that. Golden State are playing, he thinks, wearing their golden uniforms.

"Josty."

Tyson turns around. Sees Mat standing there, hands dry and clean, with Tito standing behind him, looking right at Tyson with that classic Tito smile. Tyson hadn't noticed that the music had turned off. 

"Do you want something to drink?" Mat asks. 

"Yeah, thanks," Tyson says. 

Mat nods and walks over to the kitchen while Tito walks forward to the couch and Tyson.

“Yo, Tito Beau,” Tyson says, hand already ready to fist bump.

“Tys Jo,” Tito replies, elongating the last syllable for a few more seconds and fistbumping Tyson in return. Tyson likes Tito. Everyone does, ir’s probably one of those impossible things he thinks like getting Kerfy to answer to Alex or making AJ Greer not dance.

Tito sits on the other side of the couch from Tyson. “How’s my boy, Sammy G?" He asks.

Tyson shrugs. “I dunno, alright I think. I've barely seen him. I think I've said hi and bye to him."

“Just thought I’d ask.” Tito’s throwing that blinding smile Tyson’s way again like he needs to. "This game's been good. Ton of great plays, great shots, Steph Curry's on fire. 

Mat comes back with two of the glasses then, puts them down on the table before returning to the kitchen for the last glass and a bowl of chips, Tito continuing to talk about the game the whole time. He puts the bowl in front of Tyson, and Tyson can't tell whether it was delibrate or not but neither Mat or Tito complain about him eating the entire bowl by himself. 

,

Tyson thinks about asking Mat then if Dante's talking to him but that would be a waste of time probably. Him and Dante go way, way back to when they were just little kids, Tyson's seen those photos too, where Mat and Dante were barely old enough to skate with their arms wrapped around each other, still smiling clearly. Dante has to be talking to Mat because he's not talking to Tyson, and he needs to be talking to someone because he can't not be, and that someone is probably Mat. It has to be Mat, as much as that hurts.

*

“Can you ask your friend not to summon you while you’re in the bathroom, please. Me and Kerf would pay him handsomely,” JT says poking his head into Tyson's room. 

“I’ll try but he doesn’t really listen to me,” Tyson says, focusing more on the video he's watching on his phone. Dogs are so cute, he wants a dog.

“Tell him it’s not for you but for us,” JT says.

“He probably would actually agree to that,” Tyson says.

Tyson can't even be angry at Mat anymore that Dante picked him over Tyson. It's not like Tyson made his feelings clear or anything. Mat probably did, maybe didn't even have to because Mat's feelings about Dante have never been subtle, everyone could always see it, and relying on Dante realising that Tyson chirping him constantly means that Tyson has dumb feelings for him when that's how Tyson acts with everyone probably wasn't the best idea. 

"You should probably stop hanging out with the dude who may or may not be wanting to date the same dude as you,” JT says.

“Dude can’t be the best word to use there,” Tyson says.

"It's the word I used, dude," JT says. "Doesn't change the point though." 

"It's not like I'm hanging out with him by choice," Tyson says. 

"Still, maybe you should say something to him," JT says. 

Tyson sighs and turns into his pillow. "Fuck off, I'm going to nap. 

"Get your beauty sleep," JT says. He has the decency to shut the door behind him and Tyson sighs again. It's not the worst idea JT's ever had. 

*

“I’m sorry,” Mat says before Tyson even realises where he is. A place that's overly familar to him now, blue kitchen tiles covered in black paint beneath his feet.

“What?" Tyson says.

“I said I’m sorry." Mat goes to run his hand through his hair, stops just before it touches the dark strands, lucky because the paint is still dripping down his fingers from the tips

Tyson hasn't been this confused since that time Kerf tried to explain the plot of Doctor Who to him. That was Tyson's fault for asking that time, he certainly did not ask for this.

"What?" 

"I'm not saying it again," Mat says, voice forcefully flat and unattached.

"Why are you sorry?" Tyson asks. Before the summoning business started, Tyson may have doubted if Mat was being sincere or not, and he can't really explain how he knows now but he trusts that Mat's telling the truth. 

"For summoning you.”

"Why are you apologising for that now? I mean, thanks, but it's no big deal," Tyson says. 

Mat folds his hands down into fists. 

"No, like it's not your fault. 

Oh shit, Mat Barzal is about to spew feelings in Tyson's direction, how did they get here? 

*

“At least he wants to talk to you,”

“Just message him.”

“It’s

 

* 

Tyson is watching with Mat when Dante wins gold.

“Thanks for the invitation,” Tyson says through a mouthful of chips. Mat had told him that he still wasn’t allowed to eat his food and then chucked a solid four bags of chips in Tyson’s direction, one of which hit him directly into the pout which he was not a fan of. Saying that, they were so nice and Mat never complained about the chewing, was too busy commenting on the game, passion and fire clear in his voice. 

“No problem,” Mat says. 


End file.
